


Behind the 8-Ball

by Cody_kun



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fingering, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Twincest, god this is a smutfest, hella rimming, seriously avoid this if you don't like rimming, sly stop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cody_kun/pseuds/Cody_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba's older brother was always a pain in the ass, and much of Aoba's high school life was spent trying to keep Sly out of trouble and cleaning up the messes they couldn't avoid. Sly's latest prank, however, may have gone too far, and now Aoba finds himself losing sleep over thoughts he never intended to have. (Sly and Aoba Twincest AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the 8-Ball

**Author's Note:**

> Cody_kun: This story is a collaboration between dropdeadesu and myself!
> 
> This is actually the first rp we ever did together -- we started it back in October, and we've written a /ton/ for it (probably up in the hundreds of thousands when it comes to words), and we finally decided to edit part of the first thread into chapter format. This story is one of our babies and I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as we've enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Dropdeadesu wrote as Aoba, and I wrote as Sly (surprise, surprise). Hopefully we've done a decent job of merging their thoughts together -- we certainly tried. uvu
> 
> Enjoy!

Aoba was exhausted. He'd had two exams in classes he didn't particularly care for (which, of course, lead to him 'forgetting' to study), and a project due in another. Everybody seemed tense this time of year, especially with winter vacation and the holidays looming in the distance. At least he wasn't the only one ready for a break, he assured himself—that was a pleasant thought that helped soften the blow, helped keep his anxiety under control…

Until one of his brother's teachers had chased him down, demanding where his delinquent twin was, that is.

After that, he'd grown into a frustrated mess.

Calling out to Granny as he kicked off his shoes at the door, Aoba wasn't too surprised when no answer came to him. She'd been around the hospital more and more lately, seeing as she refused to retire even though she was years past the usual age people hung up their scrubs and settled back for a well-deserved rest. It was good for her to get out, Aoba had to admit, so he didn't mind too much, though it left him and Sly home alone more often than not…

A blush crept to his cheeks at the thought.

Of course he loved his brother, but he was a royal pain in the _ass_. Getting into fights constantly, skipping classes, smoking God knows what, fucking anything that moved—it caused the faculty _and_ Granny to yell at Aoba almost constantly. 'Keep him in line,' 'you're a good influence'—as if Sly would listen to him, of all people! Why did they think it was so much easier for Aoba to keep Sly under control when a league of trained professionals _couldn't?_

Climbing the stairs with heavy feet, Aoba made way to his room and paused for just a second. He threw a little look across the hall at Sly's door, then walked forward and gave it a soft knock in hopes of a response—desperate hopes, but hopes nonetheless.

"Sly?" He wasn't entirely surprised at the silence that met his ears. With yet another little sigh, he walked back across the hall, pushed his door open, and tossed his bag to the side, flopping onto his bed with his arm laid across his eyes.

Why was his brother such a headache?

Shrugging it off the best he could, Aoba allowed himself to relax for the first time that day. Without much else to do, he let his eyes slip closed and focused on his breathing.

Soon enough, he fell asleep.

* * *

Sly kicked his shoes off at the door, listening closely for any sign of Granny as he shut it quietly behind him. He knew he'd get chewed out the second she saw him (he'd skipped most of his classes that day to go smoke with his friends and beat up a couple of guys who'd been talking shit), but when he heard nothing, a smirk spread across his face.

 _Perfect_.

He noticed Aoba's shoes lying next to his and, with a slight bounce to his step and his hands buried deep in his back pockets, he headed upstairs. His first instinct was to check Aoba's room, which he did, opening the door quietly and wincing as it barely creaked; but Aoba didn't seem to hear it. He was lying on his back, arm flung over his eyes, and as Sly made his way inside, tip-toeing as quietly as he could, Aoba still didn't stir.

Sly grinned.

"Hey, bro," he said as he bounced onto the bed, crawling until he towered over Aoba, hands on either side of his face and knees barely hugging his hips. "How was school?"

Aoba had fallen into a rather peaceful sleep before he was jerked awake by Sly's inconsideration. Flailing _just a bit,_ he pulled his arms back as to not smack his twin in the face and earn a few repercussions himself—and knowing Sly's temper, he would have. Breathing deeply, his eyes were wide as he tried to settle his heart down before he, well, _died._

"F-Fuck!" he swore, gripping the bed sheets and glaring up at his brother. It was only then that the question registered. "School? You wouldn't have to _ask me_ if you went for _yourself!"_ He pouted before sniffing a few times, lifting his head off his pillow briefly to groan and flop back down. "You stink."

Sly shrugged one shoulder during all of Aoba's outburst, then leaned down until his nose was right by Aoba's neck, and sniffed hard himself.

"And you smell like a girl."

He leaned back with a grin, then flopped on the bed next to Aoba with a wide yawn, his hands thrown above his head. "Where's Granny? I'm fuckin' starving."

Gritting his teeth, Aoba would have shoved his brother away had he not pulled back voluntarily; and lucky for him that he did. Sitting up and looking at the others lazy expression, Aoba rolled his eyes.

"Most likely the hospital," he said. "Like usual. We're probably left to fend for ourselves..." He gave Sly a small frown. "It's not like we can't cook, you know." Sure, it wasn't Granny's cooking, but it was better than starving.

While they were in this position, Aoba took advantage of it and scanned his eyes over Sly's form—really, he was looking to see if his clothes had any rips or tears or other new marks on them. That was generally how Granny caught him whenever he skipped or got into trouble: because he was too careless. So if Aoba could take notice of things before Granny did, at least he could help fend off the heat, if only a little.

"That fuckin' _blows,"_ Sly muttered, scratching the side of his face and wincing as he brushed a fresh bruise. Then, his eyes drifted to Aoba, and he noticed his twin's eyes dragging over his own body. _All_ over it. "See something you like?" His grin was back in full force; he punctuated his sentence with a wink.

It took a moment for Aoba to catch the innuendo, but when he did his face flared.

"No!" he huffed, about ready to tell the other off when he noticed a small tear in his shoulder. "Hey..." Leaning forward, Aoba looked down and frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "How old is that?" He pointed vaguely, wiggling his finger in the direction of the tear.

Sly blinked for a moment before tugging at his hoodie, trying to get a good look at where Aoba was pointing. He swore under his breath when his eyes fell on the little slit and he sat up and shrugged off his jacket, holding it in front of his face with a deep frown.

" _Great_. Granny's gonna flip her  _shit."  
_

Taking the jacket from Sly without another word, Aoba sighed and stood up. It wasn't often that he walked away from his brother like this, but if he _didn't,_ then he'd have to listen to Granny, too; and her last big speech before school started still sat fresh in his mind.

Venturing to his desk against the wall, Aoba pulled out a small box and opened it quickly. Inside were an assortment of threads of different sizes, needles, measuring tapes... It was a rather nice sewing kit, in all honesty. Flipping the hoodie inside out and setting it against the desk, he started looking for a matching patch.

"Can you at least _pretend_ to be careful?" Aoba grumbled as he started holding pins in his mouth.

Sly, with a little frown, stood up and came to stand behind Aoba, curious as to what he was up to. He scoffed when what his brother was doing finally registered, and shuffled his feet against the carpet with a little huff.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he mumbled to the floor. "I can deal with Granny myself."

 _"Of course_ I have to," Aoba grumbled, teeth still holding the ends of the pins. "You remember what she said, right? Do you really think she wasn't serious?"

The time before last her 'big threat' was Sly going to live with their straight-laced cousins, Ren and Sei (a pretty mild punishment, in Aoba's opinion), but the time before that, Aoba was never given the full details of. Sure, it was only for a week, but when Sly came back he refused to talk about it, stating he'd never go back with a firm frown on his face and eyes to the floor.

At the beginning of the school year, Granny, as usual, sat both of them down and made it very, _very_ clear that if she didn't see some real improvement this time around, Sly wouldn't have a choice in where he went. Sly had seemed less than thrilled, of course, and, by some miracle, actually put a decent effort in for the first few weeks of fall. Aoba, feeling nothing short of empathetic, decided to help Sly in any way he could; though, of course, over time Sly went right back to his devious ways, cutting school, sleeping around, and getting high any chance he got; Aoba was left catching mistake after mistake after _mistake._ It was frustrating, to say the least, but he really didn't want Sly to get shipped off again, not when he didn't know where to and _especially_ not if Sly was so shaken up about it, as he seemed to be.

After finally finding the right colored patch, Aoba began pinning it into place. "Besides," he continued, "I took Home Ecc to take care of stuff like this. If I don't fix your mistakes, then I bought this sewing kit for nothing."

Sly snorted and shook his head. "Well...thanks, I guess." He scratched the side of his face with a little, nervous laugh. "You're just like a girl, you know that?" He scoffed, smirking behind Aoba's back. "What, you wanna be my wife of something?" Wrapping his arms around Aoba's waist, Sly rested his head against his shoulder, and, with a little smirk, said: "I wouldn't mind, you know~ But your cooking tastes like ass."

A shiver ran up Aoba's spine—he _hated_ it when Sly talked like this. So tantalizing and low and…

Feeling his ears burn, Aoba instead tried to focus on the task at hand. "I want to keep peace in this house," he responded coolly, needle in hand as he searched for thread. "And God knows _you_ won't pick up a needle and thread, and no girl at school will take this jacket. It smells like a fucking club." In all honestly, it wouldn't have surprised him if Sly _had_ worn it at a club. The thought made him frown.

Mind wandering back over the words as his fingers moved, the 'wife' comment stuck out in his head most of all, repeating in his ears over and over again. 'Be your wife, _be your wife'—_ Aoba bit his tongue. He wanted to yell that they were _brothers_ , but he instead focused on his work, trying to force his mind away from that rickety train of thought. He couldn't let the cooking comment go, though, no matter how hard he tried.

"I'd like to see you do any better!"

Sly, with a little chuckle and lips right outside of Aoba's ear, whispered: "Is that a challenge?"

And then, with a grin a mile wide as Aoba squeaked, Sly unwound his arms from around Aoba's waist and stepped back with a small yawn.

"I'm gonna go take a nap," he said. "I'm _exhausted_. Good luck with cleaning up my mess." He gave a wave of his hand, then headed out of Aoba's room, feet dragging, and made his way to his own.

Aoba couldn't say he was surprised, really. In fact, he was almost shocked Sly hadn't passed out on _his_ bed—it had happened before, more times than Aoba could count.

With a small grunt at the mention of luck, Aoba focused all of his energy on fixing the jacket, relieved now that he was free from the distraction of Sly's presence. He actually liked this jacket—it looked really good on his twin. Truth be told, Granny probably wouldn't have cared too much about the tear—it was _him_ who didn't want it there. A tear could happen anywhere at school, at anytime, and even if it was in a fight, it wasn't as if she would have flown off the handle _too_ badly, because at least, that way, he was _at_ school.

It didn't take too long to finish sewing the rip. Taking out the pins and making his final adjustments, Aoba flipped the hoodie right side out once again to admire his handiwork—and he'd done a good job, if he did say so himself.

Grinning at how well it turned out, he sniffed and his face fell as he realized that the odor was the _next_ beast to conquer. "Damn it, Sly," he grumbled. Granny _would_ notice that.

Pushing himself up from his seat, Aoba stepped to the laundry room, jacket hanging limply in hand. The rest of their clothes would be washed soon enough, but he had some bedding he needed to throw in, anyway; he'd just sneak this in alongside it and get everything done before Granny got home. It was an easy fix.

After starting the laundry, he figured Sly had slept for long enough and wandered to his room. Giving a soft knock to announce his arrival, he pushed the door open and peeked inside.

"Niisan," he called, eyes searching the dim room. "You still asleep?"

Sly cracked one blurry eye open, glaring hard as Aoba walked into his room, pulling him from sleep—though, really, he'd woken up a few moments before thanks to a headache and grumbling stomach.

"Go away," he mumbled, turning over in bed, dragging his covers over his scrunched-up face. "Unless you got food, I don't give a fuck."

Not too off put by the reaction, Aoba wandered over. He didn't dare turn on the light—that was a death wish. A lot of things were when it came to Sly.

"I fixed your jacket," he whispered as he sat down on the edge of Sly's bed. "It's in the wash. I'll get the smell out. And we really should figure out what to do for dinner." If Granny wasn't here right now, she probably wouldn't be for awhile.

Glancing around Sly's room, he couldn't see much of its contents since it was so dark, which had him curious. He was never really _in_ Sly's room, not since they were kids and shared the same space.

"What do you think you wanna eat?" he asked again, prodding what he assumed to be Sly's side. "Since my cooking is ass and all—I'm assuming you don't want to eat ass."

Sly, cracking a sleepy grin, suddenly flopped over onto his back, pulled the covers down, and clutched Aoba's shirt, tugging him close—so close their foreheads knocked together.

"I wouldn't mind eating yours."

Aoba had been hoping to get a serious answer; he was hoping that when Sly finally turned over and grinned, he'd thought of a meal he would care to share, and that's where his smile was from. He had hoped Sly was thinking of dumplings and stir fry and fried rice—but as his brother clung to his shirt with _that_ grin, Aoba knew better.

Oh, no.

He was about to tell Sly off for smacking heads with him, but as those words curled against his face, rang through his mind, Aoba tensed; his cheeks lit up like fireworks.

"Th-That's— _no!"_

Sly chuckled and winked at the delayed reaction, dragging his tongue along his lips. "I bet you taste a lot better then your cooking," he said, purposefully lowering his voice, using the raspy tone that always made girls weak and had them falling at his feet. He sat up slowly, chuckling at Aoba's wide-eyed, red-faced expression (exactly what he'd hoped for, _hell_ _yes),_ then flicked him on the forehead.

"Just kidding, _loser."_

And then, he jumped up and headed for the door, nearly stumbling over the shoes and clothes spread across the floor; they were almost as permanent a fixture as the carpet no matter how much Granny yelled at him to clean.

"Why don't we just make mac and cheese or something?" Sly opened the door and threw a look over his shoulder, squinting at Aoba in the dark. "I'm sure you can't fuck _that_ up."

Watching Sly's back, Aoba's mouth dropped open and he gaped like a fish out of water. He couldn't breathe.

Why.

_Why?_

Why why why why why why _**why**_ did he have to _**do**_ shit like that?! That tone made his legs weak and caused the pit of his stomach to stir and burn and— _fuck_.

That was his _brother!_

Flinching at the flick on the forehead (a little late, really), Aoba huffed. "Act your damn age," he grumbled, squinting at his brother who stood in the doorway. Standing and following suit, he sighed. "Yeah, I guess that sounds good...I'll go change."

Why was he still in his school clothes, anyway? He must have really been distracted...

"Can you go at least get some water started first?"

Sly waved his hand as means of answer then headed down the hallway and for the stairs. He gritted his teeth as he descended, his feet heavy on the steps and his body _just a bit_ warmer than usual.

Damn, what _would_ his brother taste like? With how good he smelled, he probably...

Sly paused at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide.

Shit.

He was getting hard.

Shaking his head and grimacing as he made his way for the kitchen, Sly heaved a heavy sigh. Messing with Aoba was one thing, but actually _doing_ those things would be totally out of line, right? And Aoba would never, _ever_ go for it...right?

Sly groaned aloud as he tugged open the drawer under the oven and pulled out a pot, then stepped to the sink and filled it with water. It wasn't like these thoughts were anything _new,_ but never before had they been as frequent, as _distracting_ as they'd become lately. Hell, every time Aoba opened his mouth, Sly's knees felt weak.

As he set the pot on the stove, water sloshing out and onto the burner from how hard he slammed it down, his eyes drifted towards the stairs. Aoba was probably naked right now…

Sly grinned at the thought.

Shuffling his way towards his own bedroom, Aoba was only half-expecting Sly to put the water on. He really didn't do anything anybody asked, but Aoba had learned to expect that by this point; it saved a lot of disappointment in the long run.

Aoba had started to remove his clothes when another thought intruded in his mind once again: what _did_ ass taste like? It sounded stupid when he thought of it, considering it was always used as a negative comparison, but if that were truly the case, why was it such a huge thing in porn?

Aoba had never been too sexual—though he wasn't a virgin—so this stuff was all strange for him to think of. What would it feel like? Would it taste bad? If things were clean, he didn't think—

"Why am I thinking about this?!" he grumbled aloud, taking off his belt and shimmying out of his school pants. Moments later he pulled on his pajama pants and changed into a plain t-shirt, tugging his hair up into a ponytail once again to keep it out of his face. Once he was good and ready, Aoba turned on his heel to head back downstairs.

"Did you actually put that water on?" he called out as he reached the bottom of the steps; he wasn't sure where Sly was, but with any luck he'd be heard.

"Yeah," Sly called from deep in the kitchen, voice flat. He crossed his arms and leaned against the sink, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face. "I'm not _that_ useless, goddamn."

He almost smirked at his words, but soon, his twin stepped into view; and when Sly's eyes fell on Aoba he almost groaned.

When he dressed like that, so casual, so _cute_ , looking so fucking _edible_ with his hair tied up... Sly shivered, grimacing as his groin gave the barest throb. Tonight was going to be worse than usual, it seemed, but as long as he could make it through dinner, he could go up to his room, blow off some steam when he was all alone...

Aoba rolled his eyes. "Nobody said you were useless," he mumbled as he shuffled towards the cabinet. "You're the one who puts those words in my mouth... Shit, do we even have the stuff for mac and cheese?"

Standing on his tiptoes, he rifled through the shelves for a moment before pulling the box down. With a small huff as he hit the ground once more, Aoba set the box to the side and started gathering the other ingredients.

Sly's eyes were all over Aoba, especially when Aoba stood on the tips of his toes, reaching for the box on the top shelf, his lithe body stretched out so deliciously Sly's pulse pounded.

Glancing over, Aoba furrowed his brows as Sly seemed abnormally quiet. "What's with you?"

Sly jumped.

"Ah, nothing," he said quickly, whipping his head to the side. _Damn_. He was getting way too distracted. "I'm just fuckin' hungry. I'm—I'm going in the living room!" Sly stormed off, hands jammed in his jean pockets, muttering curse after curse under his breath.

Why the hell did he have to be cursed with a brother so pretty he wanted to pin him down, kiss him hard, mark him _everywhere_ , taste him _all over?_ Sly smacked his hands against his face as he plopped onto the couch, groaning loud and long. It's like Aoba _knew_ what he was doing, like he knew _just_ how to rile him up.

It wasn't _fair._

Raising an eyebrow as Sly stormed off, Aoba couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. Sure, Sly was _strange_ at times, but this was strange in a different way. It was worried him, honestly.

Knowing that his brother wouldn't open up until he wanted to, Aoba instead turned toward the food and started preparing their meal, taking extra precautions to make sure he didn't fuck anything up.

Just as he was putting the finishing touches on things not twenty minutes later, Aoba called out: "Niisan?" A slight pause. "...Will you come help me set up the table?"

Sly groaned so loudly it bounced off the walls as he begrudgingly stood and trudged to the kitchen, slamming cabinets and nearly breaking bowls as he practically threw them against the dining room table. When that was done he sank into his seat, arms crossed, eyes on the table, a pout on his lips.

"Calm down!" Aoba hollered after him, hearing the commotion. "Geez, I'd have done it myself if I weren't making sure it didn't boil over..." He just wanted to make sure he didn't fuck up—he really, _really_ wanted to.

Carrying the pot over, Aoba filled both of their bowls before taking it to the sink and filling it with water to rinse it out. Stopping by the fridge, he pulled a soda out for each of them and went back; he set one can next to Sly then took his own spot at the table and sat down, lifting up his spoon as he got ready to dig in.

"Now that you have food, are you going to act normal?" He tried to sound casual, hoping his concern didn't show through too much. Sly would never let him live it down. (Never ever.)

"Shut the fuck up," Sly bit, his eyes boring holes in Aoba as he shoveled a giant spoonful of mac and cheese into his mouth.

Huh.

Surprisingly enough, it didn't taste like shit.  
  
His expression softening just barely, Sly continued to eat, occasionally pausing to frown into his bowl when his thoughts grew a little too loud.

Aoba was curious— _very_ curious. Sly normally had no filter, so the fact that he was so thinking so silently was beyond strange. It actually worried him.

As he chewed his own noodles quietly, Aoba tried to tear his eyes away from his brother, only to find them wandering every so often. He couldn't stand this silence. Just their chewing alone was going to drive him nuts.

But, of course, when Aoba finally decided to break the silence, it was nothing but an awkward floundering of words.

"So...d-does it taste like a-ass?"

Sly almost choked on his mac and cheese—and then his eyes dragged to Aoba, his spoon clanked against his bowl, and his lips twitched like crazy.

"No," he said after he managed to swallow. "It doesn't."

Only after watching Sly's reaction did it occur to Aoba just how odd that sounded. Face falling fast, he muttered: "Oh..."

Aoba shifted a bit, pushing around the final bits of neon pasta in his own bowl. Those thoughts from earlier, the weird ones, the ones he didn't want came up once again, and Aoba couldn't stop them no matter how hard he tried—and because he was so lost in his own little world, he didn't even notice as he opened his mouth and spoke once more.

"Nii?"

And there it started.

"What does ass even taste like, anyway?"

Aoba's eyes widened and he nearly dropped his spoon as he stared into the orange-tinted bowl.

What the _fuck_ was he thinking?!

Trying to play it cool (God knew Sly wouldn't let him live it down if he saw his embarrassment, he wouldn't, he _wouldn't),_ Aoba cleared his throat and shifted a bit while awaiting the answer. Ah, time was going by awfully slowly—and Sly, well...his expression did nothing to ease Aoba's anxiety.

Sly's face was blank with shock for a good few seconds before a grin spread across his face and he began to cackle, slamming his fist against the table as his body shook. Oh, _God_ , his brother was a fuckin' _trip._

Aoba's face immediately flushed red. Oh God. Ooohhh God—there it was. Groaning, he put his face in his hands. There wasn't anything he could think of that would even come close to saving his ass from this—

...No, that was _horrible_ wording.

 _"Christ_ , Aoba!" Sly said through a boisterous laugh. And then, once his laughter finally began to calm, he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head, all smiles. "You really wanna know?"

Pulling back a bit, Aoba's eyes widened at the question. "Wh-What?!" He couldn't help but be curious. "How would I find out? Is it, is it like a food, or—" Realization dawned on him and he sputtered, at a total loss for words.

Sly couldn't stop laughing as his brother sputtered, his face a mess of red. How the hell did Aoba ever get so cute?

Sly could go with this.

"It's not really like food..." Sly picked up his spoon and licked off the excess cheese, his eyes on Aoba. "It's bitter. It tastes like skin and soap." His eyes got just a bit lower, his head tipping back just a bit farther. "But it's worth it to feel someone squirm underneath you and hear them moan your name over and over again. And if you can make them cum, well..." Sly grinned, his voice fading out as he licked his spoon again.

Sucking in a sharp breath as Sly spoke, Aoba couldn't suppress a shudder and grabbed the edges of the table. Screwing his eyes shut, he shook his head. How— _how_ —?

"How do you even _get_ like that?"

He really needed to fix this filter problem he had, _Christ._

He took a deep breath.

"Like...o-okay, I get kissing and stuff. And touching, and being _inside_ something—er, someone. Fuck..." His face went an even brighter shade as his own faded memories came to mind and he swallowed: the intense build up, the sticky, warm, wet feeling—

Oh _God,_ he needed to stop.

"B-But—" Aoba dragged his thoughts away once again, back to the present, "I-I don't...how...that just seems like a stretch! It can't _taste_ good. It...it doesn't seem like it'd _feel_ good." He pulled a face. "It'd just be _weird_ , personally..."

As Aoba's voice faded out, suddenly Sly was on his feet even though he couldn't remember standing, couldn't remember stepping to where Aoba sat, and couldn't remember bending down until he was in his brother's face, breathing his brother's air. But he soon felt himself begin to grin, felt his body begin to burn, and then, he spoke.

"You wanna find out just how good it feels?'

Sly crept up on him so quickly Aoba hadn't even noticed his presence until they were in each other's face. "I-I never said—" With an audible gasp and a fluttering heart, he jumped and tried to push away from the table far too quickly, his feet getting tangled together, and within moments, he was on the floor. Hissing through his teeth, Aoba rubbed the side of his head, groaning as his back stung from landing against the hard tile.

_Damn it._

Cracking an eye open, he looked up to see his brother through blurred vision. His mind swum due to the fall and the shock of it all, of everything that just happened. What were they talking about, again...?

Oh, _right._

His face lit up.

With a dark chuckle as Aoba flailed, suddenly Sly was on the floor just like Aoba, except he was _on top_ of him, staring him down, grinning, his hands on either side of his brother's pretty little face. As if his thoughts alone hadn't been enough, seeing his brother so flustered, so _cute,_ and hearing him ask such dirty questions with such an innocent, blushing face... Well, Sly wasn't thinking straight anymore.

"Come on," he said, face swooping down, hair falling onto Aoba's face, onto his neck, tickling his skin. "I know you're curious." Reaching out, he tugged at Aoba's hair, winding it around his finger. "I can satisfy your curiosity. I can make you feel _amazing."_

That _voice_ again—the one that made Aoba's head spin. That dominant personality, the way Sly was touching his hair, pulling it gently, grinning right in his face...

Swallowing thickly, Aoba turned his gaze to the side. He'd have yanked his head away by this point, but he knew Sly wouldn't release his hair; in fact, he wouldn't have been surprised if that was part of his plan in the first place: grab his hair, wrap it around his fingers, lock him in place. His own brother of all people would know how sensitive Aoba's scalp was, how much he hated having his hair touched ever since they were kids and—

His thoughts were cut off and his eyes widened as the words fully sank in, late as it was. Shaking his head a bit more, he stuttered out a belated response, pulse in his throat.

"C-Christ, Sly, w-we're—!" There was no way he was serious; there was _no_ _way_. He was just trying to get a reaction—he just wanted more ammo to tease Aoba with. That was his main motive, Aoba was sure of it.

Aoba really wished he'd stop using that voice, too; he wished he'd stop looking at him that way, with so much _lust,_ lust he didn't even _try_ to hide. It caused Aoba's groin to stir in a way that was uncomfortable, in a way he knew was so, so wrong; but he couldn't fight it off.

Taking a deep breath, Aoba huffed.

"You don't mean any of that."

"Oh, Aoba..." Sly chuckled, his voice deep and rough. "I mean it. I mean it completely." Breathing hard, he leaned down until his lips ghosted over Aoba's pulse, his tongue licking a trail right up to his ear where he paused to whisper: "Let me unravel you. Let me pleasure you until you can't remember your own name and all you can remember is _mine_." His lip curled. "Let me make you _moan."_

And then Sly pulled back, his groin throbbing, eyes on Aoba's pretty, flushed face, lips curled up in a lusty little smirk.

As much as he wanted to repress it, when Sly pulled away, Aoba let out a whimper. He couldn't help it. That voice—that _voice_.

Growing up, they'd been close. Even after Sly started being a pain in the _dick,_ they were always close. Their rooms were close, _they_ were close, and once they started getting older and Sly grew more and more _promiscuous,_ for lack of a better word, Aoba heard that voice. He heard it when Sly talked to girls on the phone, when he was trying to get lucky in the halls, when he thought no one was around to hear him—but where it stuck out the most by far in Aoba's thoughts was when Sly spoke to _himself_. He was _very_ vocal during 'activities,' whether they were solo or not, and it was always _this voice_ he spoke in when he said the _dirtiest_ things.

Aoba shivered at the touch of Sly's lips, at the cool, wet feeling leading right up to his ear as Sly leaned forward again, lapping at his neck, dragging his tongue straight up. Giving a small gasp, Aoba whined slightly and tried to pull away, his face red and eyes burning as he shuddered.

"S-Stop that!" He tried to sound threatening, and was rather disappointed in the whine that slipped out instead. "We're brothers—we...you don't.. Even _you_ can't think of me like that!"

Right?

_Right?!_

Sure, he knew Sly fucked around with whomever he wanted—he wasn't sure of his own brother's sexuality himself; he never _asked_ —but even as _gross_ as he was, he had some morals, some _limit,_ right? Didn't he think that them being brothers was...gross? Wrong? _Perverted?_

If only Aoba knew.

Sly had _craved_ Aoba for longer than he could remember. It all started when they hit puberty, probably; that's when Sly first noticed himself staring for longer than he should have when Aoba got changed, stealing peeks at his brother when he thought he wasn't looking, getting hard and hot every time his brother looked him straight in the eye, said his name in that whiny, airy little voice of his. But he'd never felt guilty for these thoughts; he never felt guilty for anything, really. He just knew that outside of his own twisted little head, none of the things he thought about when he jerked and fingered and fucked himself into oblivion could ever happen.

But fuck that.

Sly swooped down again, kissing Aoba's ear. "Do you know how hot you look right now, Aoba, shivering and shaking underneath me?" He let out his own little moan for emphasis, grinning when Aoba shuddered harder, then straightened up again, letting out a staggered breath, and chewed his lip hard, squirming on top of Aoba.

"Hey, Aoba...look." He tilted Aoba's head down, fingers on his chin, hoping he'd get a good look at what he'd done to him—what he constantly _did_ to him. "Look how hardyou make me."

Aoba couldn't breathe. He would whine and whimper and writhe, but he couldn't _breathe_. The kiss against his ear, the sounds he made—and when he finally moved to his grandiose display, Aoba couldn't really help but look—he literally, physically, did _not_ have a choice.

Eyes bulging wide at the sight of his brother's bulge before him, Aoba couldn't help but feel his own cock twitch and surge. The longer he stared, the more he throbbed, until—oh, God.

No.

No, no, _no._

Aoba forced himself to look away with the dark thought that while his brother was wearing _jeans_ , _he_ was _not_. "S-Stop," he sputtered, screwing his eyes shut once again as his face went five shades redder. "I didn't do that to you—you're just trying to make me th-think that I did!"

Because if Sly could make Aoba think that he did dirty, perverse things to him, he'd have something to hold against him forever; he'd never be free from the teasing and taunting so long as Sly was around. But meanwhile, in the back of his mind...he really did feel a small twinge of happiness at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he _did_ do that to his brother.

Fuck, he was _disgusting._

Sly laughed, shaking his head. Really, his little brother was way too cute for his own good.

He couldn't wait to _wreck_ him.

"It was all you, Aoba," he whispered, reaching between his legs for his brother's groin, gripping hard and moaning aloud when he felt that his brother was almost as hard as _he_ was. "Oh?" He grinned. "Little brother's just as hard as me." With a little chuckle, he leaned forward, his hand still massaging his brother's cock, squeezing and pulling and making Aoba shake even harder, then bit Aoba's neck: just a little nip. "I wanna taste you _so bad."_

That laugh. That voice. _God,_ he wished Sly would shut the fuck up for five damn _minutes!_ He couldn't think straight, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't—

But, at the same time, he wanted to hear so much more.

He was just about to protest again about how Sly had to be lying, about how wrong Sly was, when Aoba was cut off by the feeling of fingers wrapping around his length. He gasped, a strangled cry pouring from his throat before he could stop it.

"Stop!" He wanted to sound forceful, sound stern, but he could have kicked himself when his cry came out strangled and weak and oh-so-needy. His hips bucked involuntarily as Sly added even more friction, moving his hand up and down so expertly—

God, he was going to kill him.

Face flushing worse at the bite, the words, the motions—Aoba couldn't go on like this much longer.

"Don't say stuff like that!" he choked, gasping for air. "Stop, g-get...the fuck off m-me!"

"You _really_ want me to stop?" Sly dug his thumb into the damp tip, licking his lips. "I can feel how wet you're getting through your pants." He grinned against Aoba's neck, breathing hard. "You don't want me to stop. You want _more."_ Grinning wide, he began to nip and suck at Aoba's neck, mouthing his skin hard, stroking faster. "I can make you feel so much better than this, little brother."

Aoba hated when Sly was right.

Aoba groaned as Sly teased his slit, biting his lip hard, gasping as he did. He tried to force his hips to stay calm, but they twitched as he felt the heat stir in his gut tighter and tighter. His whole body was hot and he felt sweat beading on his forehead; his shirt began to stick to his chest.

 _Fuuuucckkkk_ , he needed to _cum._

With the gnawing on his neck, Aoba tossed his head to the side, half from the pleasure and a partial, weak attempt to get Sly to remove his mouth (as if that would happen). But, of course, he only felt Sly clamp down tighter around his cock in response, causing him to twitch.

"N-Niisan!" he breathed, voice raspy and strained. " _Please!"_ He was almost thankful he couldn't continue his sentence; Aoba wasn't entirely sure if he was about to ask him to stop, or beg for _more._ The thought made him shake even worse.

"Mmm..." Sly chuckled, rough and dark. _"That's_ more like it."

Unwinding his fingers from around Aoba's cock, Sly slid down his body until he was face-to-face with his little brother's twitching erection, the fabric of his pajama pants so wet it clung to his cock like a second skin. Sly moaned, his own cock twitching violently from the smell of musk and sight of Aoba so worked up, then dragged his tongue against Aoba, grimacing just slightly at the feeling of the material against his tongue, piecing away—but it didn't matter. His pants would be off soon enough.

Sly hooked his fingers under the waistband of Aoba's pajama pants, groaning aloud, his eyebrows knitting, face screwing up when his little brother's cock sprang up, so soaked it glistened in the light of the dining room. He snickered at the little patch of blue hair above his groin, then took the slippery tip into his mouth, sucking hard, shuddering when pre-cum immediately flooded his mouth; his brother tasted better than he _ever_ could have imagined, and he'd had the thought almost daily.

Aoba's eyes bulged.

What the actual fuck was Sly _doing?!_

Once Sly had pulled away, he had the relieved thought that perhaps, he was done—maybe he'd teased him, _traumatized_ him enough for one evening. Maybe, just maybe, he was cutting Aoba a break.

Oh, how wrong he was.

As Aoba felt his clothing ripped from his hips, he didn't even have enough time to wriggle away; and with his brother's mouth firmly against his hard-on, Aoba let out one of the most lustful moans he'd ever heard.

He was so fucking embarrassed.

Hips bucking forward no matter how hard he tried to keep them down, Aoba found his hand involuntarily ran to his brother's head, coaxing him on, even if it wasn't on purpose. Shaking, he weakly tried to push him away while panting so hard he couldn't catch his breath.

"S-Sly," he breathed. "Sly, we shouldn't—" He swallowed. "We sh-shouldn't be doing this—"

What if somebody saw this? What if _Granny_ walked in? He knew the possibility was slight, seeing she normally wasn't back until late in the evening, sometimes not until after midnight—but then, he had another realization.

What if _Koujaku_ walked in?

His childhood friend had a nasty habit of coming in uninvited, especially when Gran's car wasn't in the driveway and the lights were on—this was his second home. If he walked in and saw Aoba panting and sweating, writhing on the floor with Sly's mouth on his cock...

Why did that thought make him throb so _badly?_

Regardless of his anxiety, the feeling of Sly's mouth was _heavenly_. The wet heat that completely engulfed him, Sly's hot tongue caressing his flesh so _perfectly..._ Aoba groaned, bucking forward just a bit as his hips raised up and off of the ground. Oh God, Oh _God..._ He wouldn't last long like this.

"H-Hey, get off," he whined, tapping the top of his brother's head. "I mean it, g-get off before I—!"

When Aoba moaned for him, so loud of beautiful and _shameless_ Sly reached a hand down to the tent in his own jeans, palming himself hard as he took all of his brother down, swallowing around his cock, his tongue lapping against his shaft like crazy. And when he heard Aoba's weak complaints coupled with his fingers against his scalp, he only sucked harder, moaning around his dick, _loving_ the way it felt in his mouth, so hot and hard and _perfect._

He heard his brother's warning, felt him tap his head, and his eyes, glassy and unfocused, looked to Aoba's face—oh, fuck. He looked _wrecked_. But, remembering his earlier promise, Sly popped off with a grunt, gasping against his brother's wet, jerking cock, smirking up at the little mess himself.

"We can't have you cumming so soon," he said, stroking his brother hard, moaning as his hot flesh twitched against his hand. "We're just getting started, baby brother."

And then Sly, without wasting another second, pulled Aoba's pants the rest of the way off, flipped him around, and positioned Aoba so that his cute, fucking _delicious_ ass was right in front of his face.

Heart hammering against his ribcage, Aoba felt a stuttering pain in his crotch as Sly stopped _just_ at the worst (or best?) time. Making a loud noise of frustration, he yelped when his pants were ripped away and flung halfway across the dining room.

"H-Hey!" He tried to force his legs closed, feeling _way_ too exposed. "O-Okay, enough is—" he tensed as he felt Sly's hands roam, choking and trying to sputter a protest as his chest and groin throbbed.

Breathing through flared nostrils, Sly's hands cupped Aoba's cheeks, spreading them, exposing his cute little hole; it twitched upon discovery, making Sly's groin absolutely _ache_. With one last little laugh, Sly leaned forward and dragged his tongue flat from Aoba's taint to the cleft of his ass; Aoba was ready to throw his head over his shoulder and scream, but with the warm, wet stroke up his crack, past his _entrance,_ he shivered and moaned, burying his face against the floor.

 _Christ_ , that felt _good_.

It was strange—strange and _wonderful_ and mind-numbing and wrong and he wasn't sure what else to do other than whine and buck back. Balling his hands into fists, Aoba shuddered beneath his brother, whining and moaning Sly's name along with pleas to stop, stop, _stop_ (he knew Sly would never listen, but he couldn't be blamed for trying).

Ignoring any and all of Aoba's protests, Sly moaned against Aoba's ass, lapping against his hole again and again, using the tip of his tongue to pry him open, wiggle inside, taste him even more than he already had. Sly dragged his tongue against Aoba's inner walls, tasting him completely, his drool sliding down onto the floor— _that's_ how much he was enjoying this. He squeezed Aoba's ass as he slowly pulled back, barely able to get his tongue out with how hard Aoba clamped down around him, then laughed: a rugged, throaty sound.

"Little brother likes having his ass eaten, huh?" he breathed, smacking one of Aoba's cheeks for good measure, grinning when Aoba yelped. "You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum with my tongue up your ass?" Aoba moaned out Sly's name, making Sly shudder almost violently. "Fuck yeah, moan for me, Aoba." He licked his lips, his eyes glinting, and dove back down, licking harder, suctioning the skin around Aoba's hole with his lips and groaning at the taste (it wasn't unpleasant, it wasn't unpleasant at _all;_ he wanted _more)_ while his tongue lapped in a frenzy.

The feeling—damn, the very _thought_ of Sly being physically _inside_ of him drove Aoba fucking _insane_. With every word, every laugh, Aoba felt the vibrations and oh God they felt so good and strange and wonderful and he wanted more—

Toes curling, Aoba's muscles spasmed and clenched around Sly's tongue—he could _feel it_ , _Christ._ As his skin burned far, _far_ too hot Aoba pulled his shirt up to his collarbones; the cool air felt wonderful against his chest and back, though the feeling of his nipples against the floor was interesting, to say the very least. He had so many other sensations going on, however, he hardly noticed the slight added pleasure, and without his permission his hand went down to wrap around his own cock, hot and throbbing so hard against his palm it was damn near painful.

He was so, _so_ fucking close.

Sly glanced up and groaned at the image of Aoba touching himself while his big brother ate him out; he saw Aoba's hand move and could just imagine it curling around his dripping, throbbing dick, pulling it hard, making everything feel _so much better_. Sly shivered, groaning and moaning and licking Aoba as hard as he could, desperate to unravel him, to _wreck_ him completely. He squeezed his ass harder, dove in a little deeper, his mouth and nose crammed against his skin, _devouring_ him with a feral growl.

"Sly...Sly, nng!" Pressing his hips harder against Sly's mouth, Aoba gripped his cock a bit too tightly and ran his finger over the slit. " _Niisan!"_

His vision when white.

When Aoba _screamed_ his name like that, Sly moaned, his eyes slipping closed as Aoba clenched and spasmed around his tongue. With one last lick of his twitching, reddened, wet little hole, Sly pulled back, panting so hard he felt like he'd just run a marathon; and, Aoba, well…Sly _heard_ his cum splash against the ground, that's how hard he came.

Sly grinned.

He was so hard it _hurt._

Aoba was fucking _wrecked_ , and when he came long and hard, painting his stomach and the tile with thick cum…

God, he came _so much._

Fuck.

How fucking _embarrassing_.

After he felt Sly pull back, Aoba knew exactly the look his handsome face wore; he knew it much too well. Breathing deeply, Aoba was stuck completely in the afterglow, unable to move a single muscle; he knew he looked completely perverse, he knew he was dripping and sopping and filthy, but right now he was too exhausted to care. His muscles, still twitching as they slowly relaxed in the warmth of his orgasm, proved too weak to hold him up in this position, and he fell back down with a 'flop;' a sickening wet, _filthy_ sound met the air as he slapped against the spot he came on and he cringed.

Ew.

As the glow quickly faded, embarrassment replaced it. Soon, tears were in his eyes and his face burned red hot with humiliation. Sitting up and scrambling, he barely glanced over his shoulder before turning and facing forward once again.

He only panted. What could he say? Sly had completely and utterly _dominated_ him. There was no going back from this—no way in hell. Aoba knew he'd think more about it later, when his thoughts raced without pause as they usually did, but right now his mind was still slightly blurry. The full reality of the situation hadn't sunk in, not completely.

Carefully, he collected himself and sat up, body sore from all he'd been through. Reaching over, he grabbed his pajamas and slipped them back on, pulling his shirt down as well, trying to cover himself the best he could.

Ew ew ew—clothes on wet, gross skin.

"...I need to shower."

Ah, yes; it was a fact not to be overlooked.

Sly couldn't help but snicker as he watched his brother slowly come down, lazily palming himself over his pants as his eyes caressed every inch of Aoba's naked skin. God, his brother was beautiful...

Slowly getting to his feet with a lick of his lips, he wrapped his arms around Aoba's waist, pulling their bodies flush together (which caused Aoba to gasp—God, he was still so sensitive—if he wasn't careful he'd get riled up all over again), and smirking right in his face.

"Can I join you?" He rolled his hips, raised his eyebrows. "I still haven't gotten off and it fuckin' _hurts_ , Aoba." He barely brushed his lips against his brother's cheek, smirking wider as he stiffened beneath his touch. "Return the favor, yeah? I wouldn't even mind if you used your hand..." He pressed against Aoba a little more firmly, breathing hard against his face. God, he was so fuckin' hard, so _fuckin'_ hard. "Don't leave niisan like this..."

"E-Eh?!" At the question of joining him, Aoba was shocked. He really shouldn't be considering he just had his brother's goddamn _tongue_ in his _**asshole** ,_ but he'd had a rough day. (Cut him some slack.)

Silent as Sly groaned and rocked against him, his mind spun. He could certainly feel that his brother wasn't lying to him—that much was evident. But was this a trick? Was he trying to get further dirt on him? He couldn't deny that he was tempted...

Biting his lip, Aoba didn't respond. Instead, he made his way towards the stairs as Sly still clung to his side, moaning and grinding like a cat in heat. He knew he wouldn't let go—maybe that would be answer enough for him as Aoba led the way to the bathroom.

Tonight was just getting started.

**Author's Note:**

> Cody_kun: Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments would be much appreciated ^-^ We'll try and have the second part out soon; it's already written, so all that's left is editing. 
> 
> Until next time!


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